Honesty
by enthusiasmgirl
Summary: As painful as it was at the time to have to feel so exposed, in the long run Matt's glad that he can finally be honest with Foggy, and Foggy's glad that he can finally understand what Matt's going through.


Matt smelled him well before he heard him. Usually, he looked forward to hearing a happily whistled tune in the morning as Foggy made his way up the stairwell, the melody echoing off of the cement and linoleum. Today, though, there was a definite smell first. Matt hated it when this happened.

The other sounds were normal. The sound of his friend opening the office door with his ass as he balanced his briefcase and two coffees (mercifully not made by Karen) in his hands. The thump of his briefcase hitting his office floor. But the smell was unpleasant. Even the strong, bitter scent of the coffee couldn't overpower it.

Normally, Matt would never even have considered saying anything. Normally, he would have had no way to articulate his problem. But things weren't normal between he and Foggy now. Not since their fight. Not since Foggy learned the truth about who Matt really was. Sure, they'd set their differences aside and worked together to finally take down Fisk. Foggy even seemed to embrace the idea of Daredevil as a symbol, as a hero. But then, Matt knew that Daredevil was never really the problem.

"Hey, buddy," said Foggy as he stepped into Matt's office and leaned against the doorframe, putting the second coffee on Matt's desk. Matt could sense how forced the interaction really was and it pained him. "Late night out Daredeviling?" Foggy asked.

"Daredeviling isn't a verb," said Matt, "And thank you for the coffee. Do you need something?"

"What?" Foggy said, offended. "No, I don't need something. What, I can't bring you your coffee in the morning anymore? Ask you about your life?"

"Of course you can, I just..." Matt stopped, not wanting to hurt Foggy's feelings.

"What?" asked Foggy. "You're making a face. Did something happen? You promised to be honest with me. What's going on?" Matt could hear the accusation and fear in Foggy's voice. He hated that his friend was so quick to assume the worst of him.

"I just can't handle the smell coming off of your right now, that's all," Matt said firmly. "Honestly, Foggy! Did you order lox from the deli this morning or did you get here by way of a salmon cannon?"

"Oh," said Foggy, "Seriously?"

"Yeah," said Matt. "You said you wanted honesty. That's honesty."

"But I eat at the 2nd Avenue deli all the time," said Foggy, confused. "I love that place."

"Yeah," said Matt. "You do."

"So it always bothered you?" Foggy asked.

"I learned to live with it," Matt said. "It's just a bit overpowering, that's all."

"What else?" Foggy asked, anger in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked, unsure what Foggy was asking him.

"What else have you just put up with all these years without telling me? What else have you learned to live with?" Foggy asked. "We were roommates for seven years, Matt! Seven years! And I know I was annoying. I am a very annoying person. Add your super senses and obvious urge to beat on things to that and I'm surprised I'm still alive, really."

"I'm not doing this," said Matt.

"What? Come on!" Foggy said. "You're right. I asked for honesty. So lay it on me, man! Give me everything you've got, I can take it! I'll even start just to show you that two can play at this game. I hate the fact that you always want to do things the most expensive way possible. You refuse to take the subway. You overtip waitresses. You wear fancier clothes than me, and you're incredibly picky about things that a normal person would just let go. You make me look and feel cheap, which I don't think that I am. Damn, that felt good! You should try it!"

Foggy was on a roll and decided not to stop. "Let's see here... Let me think... oh!" he said, "the attitude you take about the food I eat. I hate that. I can't eat a bag of Doritos without getting a lecture from you like you think you're better than me."

"Yeah, well those Doritos smell like a couple of dozen different chemicals," said Matt. "It's disgusting. There's not a thing in them that should technically be allowed to qualify as food. Not to mention the fact that between the way you eat with your mouth open and the fact that the bags they come in sound like two buses colliding on a highway every time you move them, I'm surprised my eardrums have never ruptured. I never told you, but I know of at least one occasion where you must have eaten a bag of them in my bed in college because I could feel the crumbs and powder on my pillow afterwards. I had to wash all my bedding. Twice! And do you know how hard it is to find somewhere to hang dry bedding on a college campus?"

"Oh my God, what is up with that anyway?" asked Foggy, yelling. "You can't just use a dryer like a normal person? We used to have wet clothing hanging over every surface of our room. Whenever anyone came over I'd have to explain why I had your underwear flung over the back of my chair! It was embarrassing"

"What do you want me to say, Foggy?" Matt asked, "I'm sorry that the static electricity and the heat from a dryer irritates my skin?"

"Wait, what?" asked Foggy. "Is that seriously why?"

"Well, yeah," Matt said sadly. He was surprised when Foggy's anger seemed to melt away.

"That kinda sucks," Foggy said.

"I don't know," said Matt, "I'm used to it now."

"You're used to it?" Foggy asked. "Like you're used to me smelling like a river when I eat at the deli? And you're used to being kept up at night by the sound of criminals and sirens? How the hell do you get used to something like that?"

"You just do," said Matt. "It's not like I ever had a choice."

"No," said Foggy. "I guess not. Wait... all that other stuff that I said bugged me, is that all related to the whole world on fire thing too?"

"I take cabs instead of the subway because the smells and noise of the subway are too much for me. And it's difficult for me to know when to request a stop on the bus." Matt confessed. "I dress nicely because cheaper clothing feels like sandpaper against my skin, and if it doesn't fit right it's distracting to the point of madness. I hate it because it means I pay a small fortune to tailors and dry cleaners, but it's preferable to the alternative. The overtipping I do just to be nice, though. You know they don't earn a minimum wage, right?"

"Okay," Foggy said, "What else?" This time when he asked it, the anger was gone. Matt could tell that it was replaced by a genuine desire to understand.

So Matt told Foggy everything. Really everything. All the things in the world that he bore with resignation and good humour, and all the ways that his friend could help if he wanted to. And Foggy listened. Really listened. And afterwards, if Matt noticed that Foggy brushed his teeth in the bathroom sink some mornings when he came into the office, if he noticed the lack of spicy food Foggy ate at his desk, or the way that both Foggy and Karen let Matt fall asleep at his desk and didn't wake him, well he refused to feel bad about it. Because it meant that not only were he and Foggy going back to normal, things were maybe even better than normal. Because Matt was finally being honest.


End file.
